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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27753199">Wounded</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinda_Kozy/pseuds/Kinda_Kozy'>Kinda_Kozy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Malfoy Manor, Shell Cottage (Harry Potter), missing moment, secret song fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:00:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,393</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27753199</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinda_Kozy/pseuds/Kinda_Kozy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron and Hermione land in Shell Cottage moments before Harry and Dobby.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wounded</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The tight sensation prickled Ron's open cuts, like a stinging chime of bells. He kept his mind firmly set on his destination just like she used to instruct him, but it was hard not to drift his attention to the low, feeble vibration of her heart pushing against his chest. He let out a breath as the pressing force of apparition dissipated. In what might be considered sloppy form he had emerged about half a foot off the actual ground. The sweet release of this weightless moment made the thud of his tattered trainers on the grass all the more grueling. Nonetheless, he hit the ground running straight toward the brightening light in the darkness of Bill’s front garden. He heard screams, weeks later he would realize that they had been coming from his mouth. As he approached, lamps lit and the front door opened revealing the weary occupants. Ron body checked his brother, as he dashed over the threshold. Bill’s furious demands fell on deaf ears, but his wife, Fleur, quickly redirected her energies falling in tow behind Ron up the stairs and down the hall to the guest bedroom he had once occupied some months ago.<br/>
</p><p>Distantly, Ron heard another crack in the yard, followed by Harry’s own cries for help; heart wrenching anxiety filled him. He held the petite and broken girl even closer and more secure. Jaw clenched, he kept going right on into the room and placed his parcel carefully on the bed. He stepped back curtly, and looked to Fleur, who asked what happened as she examined the patient. With bile rising, he explained the injuries without revealing too many details of the night. She turned her gaze on him, and they stared expectantly at one another. Impatient, Fleur spooked him out of the room, forcing him to reveal the shadow of the embarrassed teenager he was supposed to be.<br/>
</p><p>In the hall, Ron's long strides made pacing barely more than a step and a pivot. He resolved to grab the door frame, begging it to open for him. He was caught completely off guard, nonetheless, when the bolt finally did click and Ron was nose to nose with his brother's wife.<br/>
</p><p>Years ago, he would have gone goofy looking at his Half-Veela sister-in-law, but now he coldly flinched in her proximity waiting for her to let him into the room. Fleur lifted a rag to his cheek to begin mending his face, but he grunted a refusal and maneuvered his way around her and back to the bedside. A voice he didn’t recognize exited his mouth and rasped a request for Fleur to go to the others. He leaned into the headboard watching guiltily over Hermione. Fleur lingered in the doorway. Quietly, she told him that Hermione would be asleep for a while, that he ought to rest himself. He heard the words but they meant nothing to him. Rest? Sleep was just an invitation for nightmares to come sooner. His head swiveled in her direction and gave the irrefutable response of a blank stare, and told her again to help the others outside. A broken cry sounded from the front lawn, and seconded Ron’s request. Fleur swallowed her concern for her new brother and left. When he heard her recede swiftly down the stairs he strode to the door and closed it deftly.<br/>
</p><p>Making his way back to the bed, he fell in a broken heap onto the carpet. He hugged his knees for a semblance of stability. Back hunched and head hung low to his chest for her judgment. He was stirred by a sound, but it was only the shallow exhale of the patient. He pushed off onto his knees to look closer. She had been cleaned up and her clothes, in the pile of tattered rags on the floor, told him Fleur had changed her into something else, a dressing gown, she was snugly tucked into the bed, he couldn’t tell. He shouldn’t care. He couldn’t help but search for signs of normalcy to calm his fear.<br/>
</p><p>Conversely, Fleur had done nothing to Hermione’s hair. It was a rat's nest of frizz, spilling over the pillow. Something that could have been reminiscent of their younger years together at Hogwarts... the drying blood, however, and shards of crystal from a fallen chandelier had a sobering effect on any memories of those innocent times.<br/>
</p><p>From afar she could have almost passed for peaceful; but nothing about it looked natural to Ron. When asleep in the tent, Hermione usually curled into a protective little ball, completely engulfed in her blanket, with short huffs of air puffing up and deflating the sheets. Here she lay stiff like a board, the duvet tucked up to her chest and her arms limp to her side over the bedspread.<br/>
</p><p>The cuts and scrapes had been removed from Hermione's face, along with its color too. Pale and sick. The more he looked the more for some color of life, he was only disappointed to find it in the dark and tired bags under Hermione's eyes. Pangs of guilt stabbed him, knowing that these dark spots were long term maladies, and he had helped etch them. Even her lips were dull and cracked; a very foreboding quality to someone who looked at them as often as Ron did.<br/>
</p><p>Ron, too, went bloodless when he examined the gash under her chin. Fleur had bandaged her neck, but the offending wound had already soiled the cotton from below. Ron suspected it must be cursed to withstand healing; there had to have been a reason Belletrix was so fond of that silver knife. Just the thought of that crone and what she'd done had Ron's hands tense with dark magic welled inside of him. Why hadn’t he used it against her at the Manor? Why was he so weak?<br/>
</p><p>Just sitting there next to her, Ron could feel the energy of the curses Hermione had encountered radiating out of her, she nearly vibrated with the pain that must still rattle her bones.<br/>
</p><p>Uselessly, he looked for something to do for her, still wishing to amend the harm he'd caused her. Finally, he settled on the only thing to do, hold her uncovered hand. Even at this he gulped in hesitation. Bandaged around the wrist, he knew he'd probably damaged it when he dragged her out from under that wreckage of crystal and brass. Gently he covered her up-facing palm with his. Rough and calloused terrain of his hand was met with the soothing warmth of her’s.<br/>
</p><p>Her face did not reflect what he felt in her hand. That small window of relief gone, he crumbled down against the edge of the bed. He prayed for her forgiveness, and cursed himself in blame. He didn't even notice the fingers curl around his hand, or the eyes that opened to a squint.<br/>
"Ron?" Her voice sounded in the brittle silence of the room, it was small and sick from screaming, tired but also lilted on the edge of a sob, "Where are we? What happened, where's Harry?" she asked frantically darting her eyes around the room, her breathing non-existent moments ago, now steadily increased to near hyperventilation. At that very moment he could have wept in thanks, but he knew he had to stay grounded for her.<br/>
</p><p>He swallowed his excitement, and gently pressed his palm deeper into hers. He said in what he hoped was a deep safe whisper, "Calm down, everything's fine. We're at Bill and Fleurs'. Everyone's o-okay." He hoped anyway, remembering the scream Harry let out upon their arrival. "What about you? How are you feeling?" he shifted attention to her.<br/>
</p><p>"Good," she said with labored calm, she tried to adjust her shoulders for a more comfortable position, but shuddered lightly as her body resisted, "I..it hurts..."<br/>
</p><p>"That's what happens when a chandelier lands on top of you," Ron mumbled, inadvertently testing that her ears had not been damaged at all.<br/>
</p><p>"WHAT?" Her voice shrieked, but the effort to shout sent her body shuddering.<br/>
</p><p>Ron bit his tongue in punishment for the pain he brought. Again. He told her, told them both, to breathe through the pain. Calming down, he resolved to explain exactly what had happened.<br/>
</p><p>"Yeah, you were passed out by then, but Dobby came to help us out, and well you know him-he's got the best intentions, but…" he smoothed back a bit of her hair and plucked a shard of crystal out of the frizz, to show her, "There was a bit of a scuffle after that, and I pulled you out to apparate here. I'm pretty sure I did this," He lifted their joined hands to present to her the broken wrist on the mends. "Sorry," He mumbled, another apology in what he understood to be an endless line of apologies.<br/>
</p><p>"You saved me?" She asked in a small voice, which Ron found ambiguous.<br/>
</p><p>"Dobby saved us. Strictly speaking," Ron sputtered for clarification. (if indeed she was angry at the idea of her owing her life to him, speaking highly of a house elf would surely placate her some). She tried to nod her understanding on her pillow but the bandaged gash was in the way and she winced at the motion, about to kick off another marathon of agony through her body.<br/>
</p><p>"Careful," he said, rushing to support her with his unoccupied hand, he helped her head settle back into the pillow. He gently slipped his hand away, fingertips brushed her temple and she closed her eyes at their touch. He looked at her pathetically. She drifted to sleep. He watched her in silence for some time after that. Moments ago he had so much to say, so much to make clear, to tell, and to promise. Now he could barely muster up a syllable. Aching and tired himself, Ron pulled his feet out from under him to sit with his back to the bedside, but still able to keep hold of that hand.<br/>
</p><p>"Ron?" Her gravel voice called him softly again.<br/>
</p><p>"Yeah?" The initial adrenaline propelling him through the night was stripping away, and his head began to droop in exhaustion.<br/>
</p><p>"I'm sorry…" Ron's ears perked up at this. Was the girl as delirious as he was? She hardly ever apologized even if she had done something to merit it. And one thing he knew for certain, Hermione Granger did not apologize to Ron Weasley. He twisted back to kneel over her.<br/>
</p><p>"For what?"<br/>
</p><p>"For hating you all this time." Her eyes welled as she looked directly into his for the first time in months.<br/>
</p><p>"Oh…” his face fell. If only it had been something trivial, like taking the last potato at dinner, or being such a know-it-all? Instead, she was daftly apologizing for something he had already committed eternity to atoning for. “Don't be, you have every right to-"<br/>
</p><p>"No, no, I didn't.” And now she was crying, he wished he had the strength to be clever and tell her to save her tears, that she was dehydrated enough. “And I never wanted to hate you, I just got so angry--when you left--and I can't very well yell at Harry." She attempted to cough out a feeble laugh, but tears began to form on the rims of her eyes.  “He’s so fragile, you know.” Ron marveled at her sense of humor.<br/>
</p><p>“As a pygmy puff,” Ron joined in weakly; stroking more chandelier out of her hair. He sniffled and thought it curious; until he noticed the tears sliding down his face. When had he started to cry? Had he ever even stopped since being locked in that basement?<br/>
</p><p>"Please forgive me." She practically commanded him, but her shaken voice squeaked, and Ron saw the hurt bubbling up inside of her again.<br/>
</p><p>"Forgive you?" Ron repeated, dumbfounded. "Hermione, you don't even need me, why would you need my forgiveness?"<br/>
</p><p>"Don't need you? What kind of idea is that?" Hermione's brow furrowed and she wheezed in shock. "Ron, you are one of the most important people in my life, and that is never going to change," she said, with deadening seriousness. "You are my best friend, and I've been terrified to lose you from day one." Her eyes searched for his understanding. Then, her gaze shifted to the ceiling; too exhausted to force eye contact. "When you left, I thought you may as well be dead. And the worst part was that you left hating me. when we promised to stay together. I let you down. I let the locket come between us; I pushed you away, even. I could barely live with myself after that. And the thought of you dying hating me made me sick. But since the moment you walked into the tent, I've done nothing but hate you from feeling that way." She mustered up the strength to bring her eyes back onto his. He opened his mouth to protest, but her stare silenced him."You came back, and you didn’t have to, you saved us. We may never come back from this, Ron. And if we don't, I just want you to know I could never hate you, I love you."<br/>
</p><p>Ron tried not to gape back at her, "Hermione, you're tired and rambling, I-"<br/>
</p><p>"I've never been more sure of myself… in my life… Ronald." She scolded breathless from withstanding so many aches to say those words. She blinked in and out of woozy sleep, but forced her eyes to open wide to prove her point, "I do."<br/>
</p><p>She was most certainly delirious, Ron thought. But she was waiting for some response from him and he'd very likely never get the opportunity to say words like this again.<br/>
</p><p>"I love you too, Hermione.” Having spent ages mulling over that statement in his head, he never dreamed it would come so easily. He was hungry to say more, but settled for, “ ‘always have.”<br/>
</p><p>Faint and brief as it was, Ron could have sworn he saw a pink blush light up Hermione's cheeks. Either over taken by fatigue, or lulled by his words she fell asleep under his watch. The pad of his thumb brushed down her temple and over the apple of her cheek. The color put the smallest glow back to her face. He'd missed that face.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Loosely based on Third Eye Blind's 'Wounded'</p><p>Hope Y'all Enjoyed the angst fluff. </p><p>Let me know what you think!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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